Weaponized Aesthetic
by aggressive-pepsi
Summary: Sam, Cas and Dean are on the road again, when the come across another hunter with a unique style. An attempt at a more "realistic" writing style.


He cracked his back, sitting up in the back seat of his junky old car. Twelfth night in a row he'd had to sleep in his car, but he didn't mind much. He lived for the road. The sun wasn't up yet, but he had a habit of rising before the sun. He chuckled to himself, yawned, and climbed into the driver's seat, flipping on the radio.

"And in other news, a recent electricity storm has knocked out power in half the county. County officials have gone on record stating…"

He didn't bother listening to the excuse the civilians would give, just put in a CD instead. The statement wasn't lost on him though. If his research was correct, that was just another sign that he was on the right track. He grabbed a granola bar from the glove box and hit the road.

-

"Cas, seriously? Seriously?"

"Dean I do not understand the problem. You stated that I could 'make myself at home'. This includes consuming many of your bottled drinks."

"Cas, soda is expensive! How did you manage to down four two-litres?"

"I was thirsty."

Dean let out a heavy sigh and sat back in his chair, staring at the four now empty bottles of Mountain Cola lying on table. He shook his head. "You're lucky Sam's getting more today. We have a long trip and I need it to keep me awake."

"Perhaps you could let Sam or myself drive while you rest, and you would not need to use the green paper to get more," the angel said with a slight tip of the head.

"Cas, first of all, it's called money, we've been over this. Second, consider this: no."

Castiel was about to ask why exactly he should consider no, when Sam walked in, grocery bags full of supplies in his arms. Noticing the same empty bottles that Dean had, he frowned.

"Damnit Cas."

"I already yelled at him Sammy don't get worked up."

"You did not yell, your voice was not raised."

Tired of the conversation, Dean just held a finger to his lips and shushed Cas. "Shhhh. Don't worry about it. We'll deal with it later." He shifted in his seat to face Sam a little more. "I got your text by the way, what's up?"

"Yeah, I found this hunter when I was picking up supplies—"

"A hunter?"

"Yeah, he had the look, yknow? I don't think he noticed me though, he might be new."

"Yeah? Well good luck to him. Why do I care."

"Cause the guy had some pretty neat subtle things about him. Guy had gauges in his ear-"

"Gross."

"Shut up, it's a style, don't be a dick. He had gauges in his ear, the plug kind or whatever, they were antipossession charms."

"No kiddin?"

"Yeah! And the guy's wallet chain- the thing was iron, I could tell. He's weaponizing his aesthetic. I just thought it was cool."

"Sam. You could have texted me that while you were at the store."

"No, the cashier was starting to get suspicious, called me a hooligan and a punk. I hate the south."

Dean just laughed, shaking his head. "You, a hooligan? Oh of course not, we just go around burning and killing things, not hooligan-ish at all!"

"Shut the hell up Dean."

"Dean what is a hooligan?"

-

He really hated the south.

He hated the way people watched him like a damn hawk, how it was impossible to just blend in and exist. It was getting like that everywhere, but it was worse in the south. It made doing his job harder. It made being himself harder.

Everywhere he went he'd get comments on his looks, kind or cruel. It was better in the north, people asking about his gauges or where he got his chains or what his tattoo meant. But down south? Called a criminal, a thug, all sorts of nasty names, plus a racial slur here and there. He was really tired of people automatically assuming he wasn't from the States because of his skin color. His family had been here for generations, he didn't deserve to be treated any different from the others. It frankly pissed him off. But since the hunt six months ago, he's stopped caring, feeling too much. Maybe he was still mourning.

He couldn't even bear to check into a hotel for the night. Not alone. He sighed and cracked open another beer, leaning his seat back to look out of the moon roof up at the stars.

It's been years since he could look at the stars and not want to cry, but tonight, he just wanted to sleep. To sleep and not wake up.

-

"Sam pass me another stick of jerky." Dean requested, holding one hand out to his brother without taking his eyes off the road.

Sam made a face and placed the plastic-wrapped stick in his hand. "I don't know why you like this stuff. It's gross."

"Sam I bought you your organic vegetable straw trash, lemmie enjoy my jerky in peace."

"Dean, I bought the veggie-straws."

"Irrelivant."

Sam sighed and sat back in his seat, rolling his eyes. He stared forward into the darkness of the poorly lit road, hoping he'd get highway hypnosis and fall asleep. Instead, he saw blinking lights up ahead, a car pulled over at the side of the road.

He patted Dean on the shoulder, "Hey, Dean you see that up there?"

"Probably just some couple pulled over for the night, chill. Get some rest," Dean replied through a mouthful of jerky.

Sam squinted and shook his head. "No, I know that car, slow down a second."

"Sam."

"Dean it's not gonna matter if we just slow down, just stop a second."

Realizing that Sam wouldn't let him just ignore the vehicle, Dean slowed the Impala to a crawl when they neared the other car. Sam pressed his face against the window to try and get a glimpse of what was inside.

"Dean, that's the guy."

"What guy?"

"Pull over, he's not moving!"

Dean groaned and pulled over right behind the car, glancing at Sam who didn't hesitate to unbuckle and get out. Cas was already standing outside the car, watching the brothers. Dean gave another groan before getting out as well, hand on the gun at his waist, just in case.

Sam was a little more reckless, rushing to the driver's side door and knocking. "Hey! Hey you okay?"

The person inside jolted awake and pulled a gun on Sam, the same one he had fallen asleep with in his hand. Sam held up his hands and backed away from the door a step or too, and Dean was right at his side, pointing his gun right back at the still drowsy person inside.

But once he realized what was happening, he put his hands up too, though still held the gun, just in case. Dean lowered his and the person slowly opened his door.

"Sam? Man, is that you?" He asked, cracking his back loudly as he stood up. The light from the yellow-orange street light glinted off the gauge plugs in his ear and the silver lip ring in his mouth. "What are you doing here?"

Sam seemed to relax a little, and Dean glanced at his brother. "You know this guy Sammy?"

"Yeah, it's the guy from the store I told you about, the hunter."

He chuckled and grinned. "You made me then, huh? I'm guessin you're no civilians then either?"

"No, we're not," Dean replied a little harshly. "Who the hell are you?"

He frowned. "A little hostile, huh bruh? Name's Zeke, Zeke Fenske."

"Dean Winchester," came the reply, "Sam's big brother."

Zeke pointed to the angel watching the altercation. "And that is..?"

"Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord."

"Yeah? No kiddin," Zeke replied, unimpressed. He put his gun away fully now, knowing that at least Sam wasn't a threat, and he wouldn't let his brother kill him. The guy seemed like a good soul. He held his hand out in offer for a handshake to Dean, a good-natured smile on his face.

Dean was hesitant, but shook the other's hand, taking notice of the silver ring on the guy's hand. "You checkin for something?" he asked, quirking and eyebrow.

"Damn right I am." He replied bluntly, offering his hand to shake to Castiel, who hesitated a moment to figure out what was being asked of him. When neither flinched from the touch of the ring, or noticed the slight holy water that rested on his palm when he shook their hand, he relaxed significantly. "Sorry for the suspicion."

"It's fine." Dean replied, wiping what he thought was sweat off his hand. "Mind if we run a quick test?"

"No need," Zeke replied, taking a sealed packet of salt from his pocket and pouring the contents unflinchingly into his mouth.

"Dude that's gross." Sam said, scrunching his nose. Dean just laughed.

"I like you man," the older Winchester said still laughing.

Zeke just chuckled and shrugged. He was about to say something when a growl came from the woods. He couldn't tell where in the forest it came from. He went pale and froze.

"Get in your car slowly, and drive."

"What?"

"I said get in your car, all three of you, and haul-ass out of here."

Castiel's shoulders shifted suddenly. "Dean, there's-"

A snarl and a crash came from right behind the group, and suddenly Zeke was on the ground, struggling with a furry beast.

There were four of them, working in tandem, circling the small group.

"Sam get the guns!" Dean shouted, pulling his own weapon on the werewolf that was between his brother and the trunk. The bullets weren't silver so the beast didn't die, but it got out of the way, turning to pounce on Dean, snarling.

Zeke was occupied with his own attacker, holding it back by the neck to get his arm out from under its claws. He swung a punch with his ringed hand, the small spike on top scraping through fur and flesh, earning a yelp from the werewolf and an opportunity to escape its grasp.

Castiel had flung one werewolf to a tree, which Sam promptly shot with the silver bullets he grabbed from the impala's trunk. His guard was down however, and the angel was momentarily ambushed from behind, invisible wings extending sharply with pain as the creature's claws scraped his skin. Dean was tossed a gun from Sam and blasted the wolf, knocking it off Cas with a yelp. Another crash of broken glass indicated one had jumped onto Zeke's car, busting the windows and denting the top.

The werewolf that had scuffled with Zeke has been felled by a silver butterfly knife the hunter kept strapped to his leg. The final one atop the crushed car made a leap for Zeke, only to be felled midair by Sam with a well-placed shot.

Dean let out a low whistle. "Didn't know they had a werewolf problem here." He said, shaking his head and making his way to the other hunter's ruined vehicle. "Damn…"

Ignoring his wounds and his totaled car, Zeke sighed. "Not anymore they don't. I was just finishing up here, figured I'd find 'em tomorrow. Should be the last of 'em."

Cas let out a low grumble about having just finished his molt and his wings being sensitive, before limping towards the Impala. Sam followed, going to get their first-aid kit and treat the angel's wounds before Dean started screaming about blood on the seats.

"Sorry about your car," Dean said with a sympathetic tilt in his voice. Only just now did Zeke turn to look at the wreckage, and he let out a pained sigh.

"There goes my home," he mumbled, letting his shoulders sag for a moment before flinching in pain. He managed to work the dented in trunk open enough to pull out three or four of his guns and a first-aid kit. "Son of a bitch…"

Dean looked on with sympathy, and walked on over, easing the trunk open a little more. He was uninjured and could apply more force, able to get the rest of his fellow hunter's equipment out.

"She was a beauty for a modern." Dean said in condolence, checking the trunk for any hidden compartments while Zeke treated his wounds.

"Damn right," he replied, wincing as he disinfected a fairly deep cut and wrapped it tight. "She used to be junk, I fixed her up nice. Stuck with me pretty damn well."

Dean hesitated and sighed. This place was empty and he couldn't just strand the guy on the road with a bunch of werewolf corpses and no car. "You need a ride to the next town?" he asked, helping Zeke stitch the last of his wounds. "I don't wanna just ditch you here."

Zeke responded with a weak smile and a pat on Dean's back. "I appreciate it. I promise I won't bleed in your car."

"You damn well better not," Dean added, only half joking, "Or you're walking."


End file.
